Silver
by Reventius
Summary: To be continued...


The sky was rapidly darkening as Narcissa made her way back to the castle, a rising cold wind stirring the leaves of the trees around her. This deep in the Forest, the snow did not penetrate the thick canopy above, but the creeping darkness had been enough to alert her to the stormÕs nearness.   
  
There was, she thought, no better way to spend a December day; the Forest was always interesting, and aside from watching the occasionally spectacular attempts of the giant squid to break up the ice forming on the lake, there was really very little to do at Hogwarts. Most of Slytherin house had already left for the holidays, leaving the dregs of the school (everyone not able to foist themselves off on relatives for Christmas) behind to sit on their lazy arses and play chess. That, Narcissa thought, or gossip incessantly about things and people they knew nothing about. Her lip curled in a rueful smile. What? Bitter? Me?   
  
So maybe she was the only person at Hogwarts that she really wanted to spend time with at the moment. So maybe most of even Slytherin didnÕt like Narcissa and so maybe flying around the Forbidden Forest at breakneck speed to get away from the excruciating dullness was against school rules. Narcissa had never been caught. Never would be, for that matter.   
  
Ducking with practiced ease to avoid a low branch, Narcissa caught a glimpse of gray castle walls through the mossy labyrinth of branches and relaxed slightly. She hadnÕt been quite worried yet, but Hogwarts had Insulating Charms for winter storms that sealed all the windows against the wind. Despite the protection of a warm cloak and a handy, entirely illegal little Heat spell, Narcissa had to admit that even she would be hard pressed to enjoy riding out the blizzard in a tree.   
  
Narcissa made a slow loop of the castle, hugging the ForestÕs edge. Her dormitory window was on the far side, opposite the gamekeeperÕs hut. Was he there? Narcissa leaned into the turn, peering through the dirty windows. No lights. Door bolted. She snorted contemptuously. Pretty damn paranoid for a half-giant.  
  
Someday he was going to lock himself out, and Narcissa wanted to be there to see it. It wouldnÕt be too hard - all he would have to do was to forget the key to any one of the seven locks on the massive oaken door. And then there were the Sentinel charms and anti-intruder hexes... The sadistic side of Narcissa surfaced and stretched luxuriantly. She smiled in spite of herself. Yes, that would be something to see.   
  
The walls loomed grayly. NarcissaÕs eyes flicked over the windows, looking for signs of movement. It wasnÕt as if there really were all that many Slytherins left, but she did not relish the thought of explaining to some curious prefect or other precisely why she had felt it necessary to return from dinner via the Quidditch pitch. Skimming the snow, she began counting - third from the left ...the wall sped past... two... one... - and Narcissa swore viciously, pulling the handle of her broom upwards with all her strength. The broom shot up, perpendicular to the ground. Gripping the handle with whitened knuckles, she brought it over, completing the loop.   
  
Narcissa pushed a strand of white-blonde hair out of her eyes and straightened the broom out. There was a dull pounding in her chest that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with exhilaration. She breathed in and felt the air burn down her throat like an icy liquor, sharpening her nerves. Now that was fun.  
  
Reluctantly pulling out of that particular tangent, she realized with the conscious part of her mind what the unconscious bits had understood immediately, in that way those bits have of grasping the intuitively obvious. Agnes Scurmond: afraid of the dark, hypersensitive to cold and petrified of storms. Oh, and the only Mudblood in Slytherin house. And she was NarcissaÕs roommate. And she had shut the window.  
  
Narcissa swore again, infuriated. Images floated before her eyes: Agnes begging, on her knees. Agnes shrieking, pleading with her to take the spiders away. Agnes, peacefully asleep as the boils began to erupt all over her body...  
  
The wall zoomed by, NarcissaÕs frustration increasing with every passing window. Closed, closed, closed...   
  
She had left the Slytherin part of the castle - none of what she could see through the glass seemed familiar. A darkened hallway flashed by; a stairway and another unused classroom. In her mind, a Stupefied Agnes floated gaily over the ramparts.   
  
Narcissa was beginning to feel the first stirrings of alarm - she could tell by the drop in air pressure that the storm was coming on fast and there was no way of knowing for certain when exactly the Insulation Charms were activated. Her eyes flicked along the wall, taking in each sill as it came. Nothing. Nothing. Then -   
  
Narcissa swerved out from the wall, cursing herself for not seeing it sooner. One tiny opening in the forbidding expanse of gray, oddly shaped and with darkness behind it. Her mind sharp with excitement and the cold, she angled back towards the castle, coolly tilting her body forward until she lay almost flat along the shaft of the broom. The sill came rushing up. Take it at a roll.   
  
Tucking arms and legs in tightly, Narcissa spiraled through the casement. The world darkened, and she was struggling to straighten out and stop, and the opposite wall was coming up fast... With vague, detached horror and an odd feeling of amusement, Narcissa realized she was going to crash. Every instinct rebelling against it, she forced herself to relax her grip on the shaft, and - at the very last second - pushed off . The broom clattered riderless against the wall.   
  
In an instant, Narcissa was on her feet, wand at the ready. She backed up slowly. Silence. The room seemed empty, but the far corners were shrouded in shadow and her eyes had not had time to adjust to the sudden darkness. Her back touched stone and she allowed herself to breathe, letting the pain wash over her. She analyzed it cooly, never letting the feeling rise enough to overwhelm her. She had more self control than that. One knee was bleeding; she could feel it dripping down her leg, and the other ached as if badly bruised. Other than that, and the fact that it felt like she had just Floo-powdered herself into a closed grate, nothing seemed to be seriously wrong. There would be more pain later, she knew, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins dulled the worst of it for the moment.   
  
She took a long, slow breath and looked around. She was standing in a classroom, long abandoned to judge from the depth of the dust on the floor and the silky strands of cobweb liberally adorning the desks. Empty. Narcissa let out a sigh of relief and sank back against the wall.  
  
There was a polite cough from the corner. She whirled. ÒNarcissa,Ó remarked a quiet voice drily. ÒWhat an entrance.Ó 


End file.
